Why I have to be on my best behavior

Three years ago today my roommate and I moved into our apartment. There was a blizzard that day, and first I had to shovel a path from the door of my building to my car, and then I had to shovel out my car. I was exhausted before I had even lifted the first box. I was just moving from across the river, but my roommate had come here from D.C. Her parents had driven all the way up from Georgia to help her, and I remember that upon meeting her (very southern) father, he told me, rather seriously, "If she don't mind you, you just spank her." As my then-boyfriend and his then-roommate, who had helped me move in, snickered and imagined for a second what that might look like, my roommate, rather than dying from embarassment, as I might have done, simply replied brightly, "He says that to all my new roommates!"

During the last three years I've quit my job, gone back to school, sold my car, and gone through a particularly heart-wrenching break-up, and all this time, my roommate has been there; a cheerful, easy-going, unchanging constant.

All of which is to say, of course, that this morning at 7 a.m., three years to the day after we moved in together, my roommate packed up her U-Haul, and headed out into the wild blue yonder. She's going back to D.C. for a few months to see old friends and bask in the comparative warmth that is winter in the mid-Atlantic region. Then she'll be moving to Chile with her fiancé, where they will be married next fall. She's really excited about it.

I think I might miss her.

I don't think I'll be too lonely, though. The psychic friend is due to arrive with her boxes any minute now. And even if she's not as cheerful or as easy-going as my old roommate, she may keep things interesting around here, at least.

Yes, change is definitely in the air, whirling and swirling and covering every surface in a cold wet, blanket.

Wait...

What's that?

Oh, right. It's just snow.

I guess some things never change.